Hummingbirds & Life Lessons

What do you think of when you hear the word hummingbird? Fast? Feisty? Beautiful? Tiniest eggs you’ve ever seen?

Well, when I hear the word ‘hummingbird’, the next word that comes to mind is banding. That’s because this year I became part of the hummingbird banding team in the North Okanagan. This group operates as part of the Hummingbird Monitoring Network (HMN), a continent-wide science-based banding program. All over western Canada, USA, and Mexico you will find groups of dedicated and skilled volunteers getting up bright and early all spring/summer long to “Protect the Joy”, as HMN likes to say.

As a member of the North Okanagan Naturalist Society, I heard about the hummingbird banding group during the Christmas Bird Count last winter, and as a keen wildlifer my immediate reaction was “Say what?! How can I get in on this amazingness?” Of course, that was in my head. Out loud, I politely inquired about how I might take part. I contacted the group and was welcomed as long as I was available for multiple banding sessions during the spring/summer season.

I waited patiently for the snow to melt and then our first meeting came in early spring. We gathered at a member’s house to go over the basics and do some pre-season training. Upon my arrival, I realized that I was by far the youngest member of the group. Most members are retirement-age, active individuals with keen minds. We pored over the data sheets, learned how to operate the traps, and examined hundreds of photos of hummingbirds focusing on key physical features and identifying marks. Now when I say “we learned”, I really mean “I learned”. Most of the group have been a part of the HMN for years. Not everyone is a bander, which requires extensive experience, training, and handling opportunities (not to mention good eyesight), but they are excited to participate any way they can. You could tell the group was raring to go, and I don’t use this phrase lightly. Conversation was focused and enthusiastic and there were more hummingbird shirts, sweaters, and earrings than I had ever seen in one place. We signed up for the forthcoming banding sessions and I looked forward to my first day out.

That day came a couple of weeks later. It was a crisp, cool morning, and I honestly hadn’t seen many hummingbirds around so I didn’t know what to expect. A large group of us gathered at a beautiful farm property in Lumby and we set up our banding station and traps along the wide front porch. At 6:00 am we started the clock on our 5 hour banding session and the craziness started.

I grew up in a rural neighbourhood with abundant flora and many hummingbird feeders, so I thought I had seen plenty of hummingbirds before. Boy, was I wrong. There were dozens and dozens of shiny, buzzing bullets rocketing around the two traps we had set up. You couldn’t keep track of how many were visiting as there were far too many to count. Males (with their gorgeous luminescent throats) were arguing over who got which perch to feed from and both feeders were packed all morning. This meant that there was barely a moment in the entire 5 hours where the banders did not have a bird in their hands.

So how is all this done, you ask? It’s a quick and delicate process. First, we set up the traps. These circular drop-net contraptions are secured in the same place as there is normally a feeder, ensuring the birds are used to coming to these spots. We hang the feeder within the trap and then settle down a few feet away with the fishing line cord that controls the wall of the trap in our hands. As soon as a ‘hummer’ has alighted on the plastic perch and taken a sip or two of sugar water, we let go of the line and the wall drops. If we are quick and steady enough (even briefly shaking the line can scare off the bird), the wall drops in time to catch the bird within the trap. Next, you’ll hear the trap operator exclaim “Got one!”, and the bander comes over tout suite and reaches inside the mesh trap to gently, yet firmly, grasp the wriggling bird.

The first step is usually species identification. Here in the North Okanagan we have calliope (Selasphorus calliope), rufous (Selasphorus rufus), and black-chinned hummingbirds (Archilochus alexandri). These incredible creatures migrate thousands of kilometres from Mexico and the southern USA to feed and breed in balmy BC. Each species seems to have its own set of behaviours and quirks. The calliopes (pronounced ‘kal-EYE-oh-pee’) are small, feisty, and loud. Often the bander knows they’ve got one even before they look based on the racket the bird is making. The rufous’ are larger and generally more tolerant, sometime making no sound at all. Finally, the black-chinned are the rarest and most exciting, generally taking precedence over other species in the trap if more than one is caught at a time.

Once caught, the bander walks back to their station, sits down, and settles into the important part. Over the next 5-8 minutes, the bander and their data recording partner will work together to assess the age, health, breeding status, and size of each bird. First and foremost, especially in the spring, we check the reproductive status of all females. This involves wrapping the bird in a little blue blanket to secure and protect them and then blowing through a straw at their cloaca, or for the non-birders, their downstairs bits. This allows the bander to examine whether the bird is pregnant, super pregnant, has just laid, or is normal (AKA single and ready to mingle). Birds that have an egg very visible in the oviduct are handled for the least amount of time possible. If the bander or data recorder note signs of serious stress in any bird, including slow blinking and sticking their tongue out, they are freed immediately. Next most important is attaching the band to their leg. A hummingbird leg is abround the size of a toothpick, about as delicate, and the birds like to suck them right up against their body when the banders are trying to attach the shiny new bling. Each band has a unique number on it, meaning that for any future recaptures we can tell exactly where and when that bird was last seen. This is what allows researchers to monitor health and migration over long periods of time and space. Since it is imperative to attach the bands successfully and safely, this step is the most stressful. A positive attitude, steady experienced hands, and expensive pliers allow this task to be accomplished problem-free most of the time. After the band is attached, the rest of the health, size, and feather condition data are taken. Finally, the bird is placed upright on someone’s hand and given a gentle shake to let them know they are free once again. An experienced bander can complete this process in 3-5 minutes, while a difficult bird could take up to 8-10. On a day like that first one, each minute was precious because there were more birds than we could ever hope to band.

Interestingly, the most stimulating part of that first session was not the birds nor the set-up; it was the people. As I said before, I was at least 30, and possibly up to 50 years younger than all the other volunteers. This may predispose you to think that I could have been the quickest or sharpest but you would be sorely mistaken. That morning and every subsequent morning, I return for the knowledge, skill, and enthusiasm I find in these devoted conservationists. There are former stay-at-home mom’s, professional biologists, medical professionals, farmers, and many more. It is a diverse group that I feel privileged to be a part of. Each session is a wonderful reminder of the satisfaction that working together to increase our knowledge of our fellow species brings. And as a young academic, it is also a very needed and refreshing reminder of how little I know, and how much more I can learn if I take the time to listen. =)

If you want to become a part of a group like this, join your local Naturalist Club or check out the HMN website for more!